Trojan Whores (21 page)

Eva stalked
around Sappho's cage. Her robe opened wide as she strode
purposefully. Her beautiful naked body was exposed. She placed her
fingers to her lips in mock thoughtfulness.

'I cannot
decide what to do. How can I make sure my little animal does not go
thirsty? Of course! I am such a fool.'

She stepped up
onto Sappho's cage. She placed her feet apart and threw back her
robe so that it hung over her shoulders and down her back. Her
oiled body glistened in the morning sunlight. Sappho cowered
beneath her.

'Here, my
little animal. You can drink my own liquid. I will quench your
thirst.'

A shower of
golden urine issued from between Eva's legs. It flowed down
copiously. Its central stream broke into a sprinkling downpour of
separate droplets. They flooded over the bars of the cage,
separating into a fragrant drizzle before raining down on
Sappho.

Sappho
crouched beneath the showering flow of urine. She was unable to
move. It soaked her hair and wet it down in straggly strands. It
ran across her forehead. It stung her eyes and ran down her cheeks
and nose. She tasted it on her lips; salty, piquant, aromatic. She
licked it with the tip of her tongue. It ran off her chin and
soaked her breasts. Her nipples hardened. It ran from their tips
down her stomach and between her thighs. It cooled her own heat. It
mixed with her own moisture. It glistened as it ran over her anus,
forming a pool around her buttocks. She sat in it, drenched by
Eva's urine, covered in the downpour of her golden rain.

Sappho
swallowed. It quenched her thirst. The savoury bite burned her
throat. Her lips parted with the keen anticipation of more. She
tipped her head back and opened her mouth. The flow continued. It
filled her mouth, and she swirled her tongue in the pool it formed
there. She waited for it to overflow then swallowed again. Her
thirst was both quenched and increased. She was enlivened and
refreshed by the beautiful liquid that filled her, and the more she
drank the more her need was not satisfied.

She stared up
between Eva's legs as the flow ceased. She kept her mouth open,
hoping for more - even a single drop. She could show nothing else
but that she was not yet satisfied.

Eva ordered
one of the guards to stand above her. Sappho waited until the flow
began again. She closed her eyes in delight as it filled her mouth.
She swallowed it greedily. One by one more guards took their
position on the top of the cage, and Sappho drank all that rained
down on her.

Each day the
same happened. The women were fed semen and given showers of urine
to drink. It seemed never ending. Sometimes Sappho was beaten at
the post, sometimes it was Chryseis' turn. They never got a chance
to speak to each other.

One day the
women were made to stand in a line to be inspected by a Greek
noble. Sappho stood by the beautiful Nubian woman. She pressed her
fingers between the woman's thighs. She did the same for Sappho.
When they were discovered they were both bent over at the pillory
and beaten with a cane.

One morning
they were all dragged from their cages and chained together in a
long line. Guards led the way as they were marched out through the
gates of Troy. They walked all day without rest or water. Some
collapsed from exhaustion. They were beaten until they got to their
feet and continued. At the beach they were herded into groups and
tied up for the night. The next day they were chained in a compound
lined with shields, and told there was no chance of escape. That
they were slaves to the victorious Greeks and that their lives
persisted only at the whim of their triumphant masters.

Sappho was
filled with despair. She could not imagine ever again being happy.
The idea of being free, with Chryseis as her friend, now seemed an
empty dream.

Time passed.
The chained women stood each day, huddled together in the compound.
The sun burned down on them. They were offered no shelter. The
strict guards watched them. They looked out for the slightest
transgression and punished them if one was detected. One day
Chryseis was whipped for looking up towards the rising sun.

Day by day
Sappho carefully worked her way nearer to Chryseis until she was
close enough to talk.

'Chryseis,
dear Chryseis, I am so happy to be close to you again. I have
missed you so much. I thought we would never be together
again.'

'Sappho, I
never doubted we would be together. And I do not doubt we will
again take our rightful place, as ladies of the temple.'

'Do not tease
me, Chryseis. I am too upset to think of it.'

'I am not
teasing, my darling. It will happen, I promise.'

'Then it will
be like my dream.'

Sappho felt a
surge of excitement run through her body. If only, she thought. She
clung to Chryseis' arm. She felt her sex moisten at the touch of
Chryseis' smooth skin.

There was a
clamour of activity outside the compound. The gates were thrown
open.

Eva had
returned from Troy. There were no more women to be found in the
city. Her mission was accomplished. Now she would show her booty to
Praxis. Now she would claim her reward.

'Line them
up!' she shouted as, with Calliope on her lead, she strode into the
compound. 'Lord Praxis will be here to inspect them at any moment.
Make sure they are presentable. I want nothing to go wrong.' Guards
pulled the women into a line. Sappho stayed next to Chryseis
although she was forced to let go of her arm.

The guards
walked along the line checking the bedraggled and dirty women.

'They need
washing, lady.'

'Praxis will
be none the wiser,' she joked. 'What he does not see he will not
know. And he does not see anything! Do not waste water on
them.'

The guard was
unsettled by her words. He did not think it wise to hold the lord
Praxis in such contempt. 'My lady—'

'I have
ordered you!' she shouted in a temper.

Calliope
pressed herself against Eva's leg and purred. Praxis appeared,
Master Wang leading him. He sniffed around the face of the first
woman. 'This is a sweet one.'

He bent and
pushed his face between her thighs. He probed his nose into her
sex. He inhaled deeply. 'Yes, very sweet.'

He took her
nipples between his fingers and twisted until she yelped. He put
his ear by her mouth and listened attentively. He twisted her
nipples more. He listened to her cries. He walked to the next and
did the same. She tried to bear the pain, but could not. He smiled,
rewarded.

He sniffed at
Sappho's sex. He cocked his head to one side. 'I know this one. I
have inhaled her aroma before. It is especially fragrant.'

'You have, my
lord. She was a priestess in the temple of Apollo. A remarkable
find. She will command a good price. As will her friend, the
daughter of Pelador himself, the high priestess of the Temple of
Apollo.'

Praxis smiled.
He was overjoyed. He had never had so many slaves. He saw before
him only a future of riches and good fortune.

'You have
surpassed yourself, lady Eva. You will command your every wish.
Nothing will be unavailable to you. I am your lord, and yet I am
your slave. My pleasure is beholden not only to your beauty, but to
the gifts you bear. Now, treat me to the sound of suffering. I want
to know how these beautiful maidens respond to punishment. I want
to listen to their humiliation.'

Eva signalled
the guards. Sappho stood behind Chryseis. 'Bring that one to me,'
shouted Praxis, hearing her move. 'The one who hides behind her
friend. And hold her friend. She will taste my punishment in a
moment.'

They dragged
Sappho forward. She struggled against them. It was pointless, she
knew it, but it was an unavoidable reaction to her fear. The
hopeless effort made her feel even weaker, even more feeble and
unable to resist the power they had over her. Her stomach filled
with a burst of anxiety. She was overwhelmed with her
vulnerability, but she fought on regardless.

'She
struggles, sire. She is like a tireless beast, fighting against the
hounds until the last. She does not realise the battle is lost even
before it starts.'

'Yes, you are
right. She is an animal who cannot see her own doom. Blindfold her.
This little beast will share my blindness. Wang, you shall be her
eyes as well as mine. We will both see the punishment of our high
priestess in the images you paint for us.'

A band of
black material was pulled across Sappho's eyes. It was tightened
with a yank and knotted firmly. It precluded all light. She shook
her head and stumbled in the confusion of dizziness, darkness and
dazzling stars. She cocked her head to the side and listened. She
heard the scuffling of feet. She heard Chryseis gasp under the
pressure of being held tightly. She heard her pleas for release.
She heard her heavy breathing.

Praxis gripped
Sappho's arm and pulled her close against him. She smelled his
aroma; cinnamon and frankincense. Its sharpness stuck in her
throat. It made her choke.

'Quiet, little
beast!' he ordered. 'Listen!'

Sappho
followed his order. She had no option. She reached out blindly,
hoping to regain her balance. Praxis snatched her wrists and drew
her against his chest. She gasped as he held her there. Her heart
drummed. Its beating pounded in her ears. The pounding turned to a
clatter. Sappho's head spun. The clatter to a heavy rattle. She
realised the chains at Chryseis' wrists were being unlocked and
dropped to the ground.

'Bring her to
her knees!' shouted Praxis.

His booming
voice made Sappho jump. She would have shrunk away but he held her
too firmly in his muscular grip. Her helpless straining increased
the tension in her body. Fighting against him, trying to oppose his
will and yet knowing all the time it was futile, incensed her. She
felt the heat of effort in the muscles of her arms and legs but, as
well as the fire of exertion, it was also a heat of passion, a
blaze of frustrated desire.

The chains
went silent. There was a pause. Sappho stopped her struggle. She
listened to Praxis' thumping heart. She waited in the darkness
behind the blindfold.

'Bring her
close,' ordered Praxis. 'Make her kneel before her master.'

Sappho heard
them pulling Chryseis forward. She imagined the look on her face;
frightened, anxious, unknowing. She imagined the tension in her
body as she struggled against her captors. She pictured her
nakedness, her skin gleaming with sweat, her dark hair dirtied with
soil and dust. She heard her panting breaths and breathed in time
with them. She sensed her terror and was herself filled with
it.

Sappho
listened intently as they forced Chryseis to her knees. She smelled
the cloud of fine red soil as it was kicked up by the struggle. She
saw in her mind the image of Chryseis' face; her mouth wide open,
dust settling on her lips and clinging to her sweating cheeks. She
pictured Chryseis' erect nipples. She licked her tongue across her
lips. Her mouth was dry. She was parched. She gasped with
expectation and fear.

'Ah,' bellowed
Praxis, 'it is feeding time.'

Sappho turned
her head. She heard Chryseis trying to speak. She knew they were
squeezing her cheeks between fingers and thumbs. She recognised the
stifled attempts at words, the strained voice of fear.

She heard
Chryseis splutter. It was a glutinous splutter, a sticky slurp.

'Is the bowl
full, Wang?'

'Yes, master.
It is full. So full it slops over the edges.'

'And she must
drink it all, until it is empty. Tell me. Is it at her lips
now?'

'Yes, master.
They are tipping the bowl back. Its rim is against her lips. Her
mouth is open because they are holding her jaw.'

'Is she taking
it willingly?'

'No, master.
She is refusing it. They are tipping it more so she has to drink or
choke.'

'And now? What
now?'

'She cannot
stop its flow, sire. It is running into her mouth.'

'And is she
drinking it?'

'No, master.
It is bubbling over her lips. She will not swallow.'

Sappho licked
her dry lips again. She imagined the semen on them. She licked
again, trying to taste the salty tang, imagining it being poured
into her hungry mouth.

'And now. Is
she taking it now?'

'No, lord. It
is running down her neck. It is glistening as it runs across her
breasts. It drips from her nipples, but still she will not
drink.'

'What now?
What is she doing now?'

'Now, lord,
she holds her hands together.'

'Is she
praying?'

'Yes, master.
She prays to her god, Apollo. She begs him to come and deliver her.
She begs for his intervention. She pleads with him to liberate
her.'

Sappho heard
the prayer. It was one they had said together; a prayer of
invocation, a prayer to conjure up a god. She joined in, she could
not resist. She imagined Apollo behind Chryseis. She saw Chryseis
bending for her master, offering her buttocks for his pleasure.

Her delight
turned to frustration. She could not bear the idea that it was
Chryseis and not her. She could not bear having to listen. She must
take Chryseis' place. It must be her, Sappho, who should feed from
the bowl.

She tore
herself from Praxis' grip. Still chanting the prayer she flung
herself forward blindly. She gave no thought to what was before
her, to what may threaten her.

She dropped to
her knees. She brought her hands together in supplication. She
begged for Apollo to appear. She felt a hand grasping her jaw. It
squeezed and forced her mouth open. She did not resist.